Hunter's Lullaby Timestamp: Home
by etoile-etiolee
Summary: WARNING: WINCEST, mentions of mpreg. Sumiko is now five months old and, since her birth, Sam and Dean have led a peaceful, uneventful life. But can this be enough for Dean?


Home

_Hampton Falls, November 20_

Sam Winchester was glad to be back home after a long day in which he'd had to reboot the entire internet network of the school after a couple of kids had decided it would be fun to try to hack the system and unlock YouTube, twitter and Facebook. Luckily for him, he had managed it pretty well and there were some advantages to being as wide and tall as he was because he only had to look at the two culprits with a somewhat menacing face to see the color drain from their cheeks and to be sure they would never try it again.

It was almost four thirty when he parked the Impala in the alley and made a run for the door, fighting a cold, violent wind in which some rare snowflakes were drifting. Inside, it was warm, and he could hear Sumiko's high pitched voice from the kitchen. He took off his coat quickly and followed his daughter's wet, enthusiastic babbles.

He found her sitting in her high-chair, her face covered with what looked like grey goo. She was banging her hands on the plastic table and swinging her feet under it.

Sitting in front of her, Dean cursed under his breath and brought a spoon full of cereal to her mouth. She opened eagerly and took everything in. Then she made a face, saw Sam and smiled, letting the mouthful she had just taken slide from the corners of her mouth.

"Oh. Still no progress with the cereal."

"She hates it," Dean stated, trying to wash Sumiko's face as she put up a fierce fight and shook her head as quickly as she could.

Sam smiled, couldn't help it despite Dean's obvious exasperation. Sumiko was so expressive. Her blond hair was sticking up on the top of her head, as always, despite all of their attempts to flatten it. Her eyes were crossing as she fought the washcloth and she was letting out an almost constant flow of "ah!" and "da!" in a tone that clearly indicated what she thought about getting cleaned up.

"Want me to try?" Sam asked, which of course got him an eye roll from Dean.

"Nah. I've been at it for half an hour already. She won't eat the freaking rice cereal."

Dean cleaned the high-chair tray and grabbed a flower-shaped rattle which he shook in front of Sue. She immediately opened her eyes wide and stretched her arms to grab it. It took a couple of tries before she succeed, rewarding them with a toothless smile as she began to shake the thing jerkily.

"There you go," Dean said, still exasperated, but the fondness in his voice was unmistakable. "Little monkey," he added, pressing the tip of his finger on Sumiko's nose. "Meep-meep."

Sue smiled at him for a second before turning her attention back to the toy.

"Anyway, Dr. Lenner said that she might not be so thrilled the first week or so," Dean told Sam, getting up and patting him on the back. "Are you hungry yet?"

"I'm starving." Sam sat at the table and stretched his legs.

"Well, there's some stuff in the fridge if you want to make yourself a sandwich. I have to go out."

Which was a strange thing to say for Dean. Not a sentence he used usually.

"Where?" Sam asked, speaking loudly to be heard over the noise from the rattle.

"I need new spark plugs for the Impala and I found this garage on the internet that has all these classic car parts and stuff. It's in Portland. I should be back in a couple of hours tops."

"Yeah, okay."

"Good."

With those words, Dean walked out of the kitchen, leaving Sam frowning with a vague sense of uneasiness. This happened sometimes. Dean just needed to get out of the house, which was pretty understandable given the fact that he spent every day with a five month old baby. True, Dean had seemed to adapt very quickly and easily to his stay-at-home-dad status, settling into a quiet routine and rarely ever complaining. He had expressed a couple of times the idea of finding a part time job, but he didn't seem in any rush to do so. It was surprising, considering Dean had been a nomad most of his life, but on the other hand, he seemed to find comfort and peace in their new uneventful life. Maybe it was something he had always longed for, despite all of his proud boasting about them being freaks and his mockery of the normal white picket fence lifestyle.

Still, Sam often had the feeling that this existence they were living was somewhat of a suspended moment in their life, some kind of transition between what it had been and what it would eventually become. And he'd be damned if he had the faintest idea of where they would be… say… five years from now.

There were so many unanswered questions and so much barely concealed anxiety between them – and neither Sam, nor Dean apparently, were ready to find some of the answers. Sumiko would grow up, and one day, they would have to make a decision about what to tell her about the things hiding in the dark. Where would they be then? They never talked about hunting anymore, except for when Bobby called to give them the latest news. But would they stay away from it for good?

Yeah. Right now, it was better to take it one day at a time and enjoy the happiness they had found in the most unexpected way.

Sam automatically picked up the rattle when Sumiko dropped it on the floor and shook it in front of her until her wide, aquamarine eyes crossed comically.

Still, the uneasiness he felt wouldn't go away. There had been something off in Dean's voice.

"Dad sounded strange, don't you think?" He asked Sumiko who made a bubble of saliva and grabbed the rattle with a little grunting noise.

"Yes, that's what I thought."

Dean came back in the kitchen, his jacket and boots on, looking ready to go.

"She didn't take a nap this afternoon."

"Oh joy."

Sumiko still had trouble with her daytime naps, but at least she would now sleep from nine to five almost every night. Which didn't make the evenings any easier when she hadn't slept, tiredness making her grumpy and irritated.

"And watch out when you change her diaper. She's got those red patches on her butt."

"Is there any zinc left?"

"Yeah, although we'll have to buy some more pretty soon."

"Okay."

"I'm off."

This was what their days consisted of. Small conversation about sweet nothings, most of them concerning their daughter and their everyday life: grocery shopping, laundry, things that needed to be fixed in the house, whatever had happened to Sam at work that was worth telling.

And it was good.

::: :::

Dean was gone for almost three hours that night and he was in a strange mood when he came back. Sam was sure he heard him talking on the phone as he was bathing Sumiko, but when he asked, Dean told him he must have imagined it.

Sam would have given it more thought, but Sue was definitely in a bad mood that night, so he let it go.

::: :::

Two days later was a Saturday. Sam woke up alone in their bed and stretched lazily, taking a look at his watch. It was almost eight, and the house was strangely quiet.

What was unusual was the quietness of the house. Sam grabbed a pair of jeans from the floor and put them on as he walked slowly to Sumiko's room, which was empty. It has been a month since he and Dean had decided that she needed her own room. They had known it needed to be done for a long time, but couldn't get themselves to just do it. Then, one night, Sam had been riding Dean, doing a damn good job of making his brother muffle constant groans of pleasure. They'd been close to reaching completion when suddenly, Dean's eyes had snapped open and he had pushed Sam away from him hard enough for Sam to find himself falling off the end of the bed and onto the floor, legs at a ninety degree angle in the most humiliating position he had ever found himself in.

"What the hell, Dean!"

Dean had been looking at the crib near the bed, covering himself with a sheet. "She's awake, Sam. She's looking at us," he had whispered in horror.

And there had been Sumiko, peeking between the bars of the crib with the beginnings of a smile on her lips. Her eyes had widened as soon as she'd noticed both of her fathers looking at her.

"What are you waiting for, put some clothes on," Dean had snapped at him, as if it had been all Sam's fault.

That had been the decisive factor and after that they had begun to put Sumiko to sleep in her own room, which was probably the safest, most protected place, supernaturally speaking, outside of Bobby's panic room.

But that wasn't the important thing right now. The important thing was that her room was empty, and most probably the whole house as well. It wasn't like Dean to take off with Sue without telling him. They both knew better than to make the other worry like that, after all.

"Dean?" Sam called, walking down the stairs only to be answered by more silence.

He found a note on the fridge. "Went out with Sue. Don't worry. Got my cell with me."

Sam sighed and started to clean up the mess from Dean and Sumiko's breakfast. He thought about Dean's mysterious phone call two days ago and started to worry something was really going on with his brother. Maybe all this routine and every day, uneventful life was really starting to take its toll on Dean.

After he made himself some breakfast and a coffee, Sam went on with the cleaning of the house. Dean did a pretty good job during the week, but he made no secret about his hatred of housework and Sam had picked up the habit of doing some extra work during the weekend. Besides, he had always liked to sort and clean things. Dean called it OCD, and maybe he was right, but it made Sam feel in control, gave him a chance to sort his thoughts.

He started with their room and picked up the clothes that were lying on the floor, grabbing Dean's leather jacket from where his brother had left it hanging on the back of a chair when he had come back from the garage two days ago. Knowing him, he'd probably realised only this morning that it wasn't in the hall closet and had picked another one instead of climbing the stairs back to their room and risking waking up Sam.

Sam smiled at the thought, then frowned, feeling something heavy in one of the inside pockets. He felt at it and immediately realized what it was. After all, it wasn't as if it was something unfamiliar.

"Dean, what did you do?" He whispered to the empty room, dropping everything to take the EMF meter out of the jacket.

Sam couldn't think of one good reason as to why the EMF would be in Dean's leather jacket, unless he'd been hunting.

Hunting. Without telling Sam.

He ran down the stairs and grabbed the laptop from the living room coffee table. Opening Dean's session was easy. His password was their daughter's name.

Typical, Sam thought, feeling anger coursing through his veins as Dean's session loaded.

The moron hadn't even cleaned his browser history. Sam quickly found what he was looking for. The site was called Spooky Parlor. . Dean had been consulting a series of articles, some of them dating back to the seventies, about a possible haunted house.

"Damn it, Dean!" Sam snarled between his teeth.

There weren't a lot of facts that would make a hunter think the house was really haunted. The seaside beach house built in the fifties was located in Freeport, near Portland. It had been owned by the same family, the Atwoods, until now. There had been some deaths, some tragic events over the years, which was only normal given the house's age and the number of people who had lived there.

There were a couple of photos of the house, the most recent one being a low-angle amateur shot taken from the beach. It was a simple, innocent-looking, wooden, two-story house painted in a soft green tone with a large bay window which probably gave a great view of the beach and the ocean.

Of course, Sam knew that innocent-looking didn't mean anything when it came to a haunting. A modern bungalow could be haunted. A trailer could have a poltergeist given the right circumstances.

Why would Dean suddenly take an interest in a potential hunt? Sam searched the web without finding any indication that a recent incident might have raised a hunter's suspicions.

Maybe Dean was really bored. Maybe this whole stay-at-home routine had become unbearable for him. He was a damn good actor if Sam hadn't noticed any signs of impatience or unhappiness over the past several months because hell, since Sumiko's birth, Dean had seemed happier than Sam ever remembered seeing him. Could he have been that wrong?

Thinking about Sumiko, Sam wondered where exactly Dean could be this early on a Saturday. They usually ran some errands, all three of them, after lunch on the weekends.

_No. Stop it, Sam. Dean would never endanger your daughter's life. _. Hell, every time they left the house with her, Dean would hold onto the stroller for dear life, constantly scanning their surroundings for any potential threat.

Still. The proof that Dean had been at least checking for a potential hunting gig was right there.

Sam took his phone and dialed Dean's number. His brother answered on the second ring. The background rumbling noise told Sam they were in the car.

"What's up, Sammy?"

"Where are you, Dean?" Sam snapped.

"Whoa. You didn't find my message?"

"Yeah, I did. That's not what I asked. Where the fuck are you?"

There was a pause, then Dean cleared his throat. "I'm heading back. Be there in ten."

"You better," Sam answered, than hung up without waiting for an answer.

::: :::

As soon as Dean opened the door, Sam took Sumiko away from him. Their daughter squirmed in his arms, her hat lowered over her eyes. Her cheeks were pink from the cold. She seemed alright.

She was so young. So young and tiny and fragile. It hit Sam like a punch in the guts. He hugged her tightly against his chest. "Hey, baby."

"What's going on?" Dean looked annoyed and hurt. "I need your permission to go out now?"

"That's not what this is about," Sam snapped. "I'll take her coat off."

He waited in the living room, growing angrier by the second when Dean didn't immediately join him. Sumiko was in a very good mood, sitting on his lap and trying to bend herself in half to catch her feet. Sam caressed her head, attempting to flatten her hair once again, feeling the warm, soft skin and letting the contact calm him.

When Dean finally joined him, he noticed immediately what Sam had put on the coffee table next to the laptop.

"Damn it. You found it," he groaned, leaning against the wall.

"You're being careless, Dean," Sam said sarcastically. "Leaving the EMF meter in your jacket. Think I wouldn't find it?"

"Oh, come on, Sam."

"That's where you went the other night? To investigate a haunted house somewhere up near Freeport?"

Dean's face closed. He crossed his arms over his chest and lowered his head, biting his lips. As always, Sumiko seemed in tune with her father's mood. She stopped wriggling on Sam's lap and tried to shove her whole hand into her mouth, groaning around it. For some reason, the fact that their daughter shared this connection with Dean was suddenly unbearable and Sam felt the sharp pain of jealousy pierce his heart.

"You know, Dean, if you were so eager to go back to hunting, you should have told me." He said as coldly as he could.

"You logged onto my computer session?"

"What was I supposed to do? Anyway, you didn't even care about cleaning your browser. That's not the point, though. What were you thinking? Where were you this morning?"

"Jesus, Sam! You really think I would take my baby daughter with me on a hunt?" Dean yelled, anger tensing his features.

Sumiko burst out crying, then, shaking her head quickly from left to right. Sam shushed her softly, taking her in his arms and rubbing her back. "You scared her."

"Well, whose fault is that? You keep accusing me and don't let me explain. Why don't you just shut up for a minute?"

Sam sighed as loudly as he could. He knew he was being an ass. He just couldn't help it. Sumiko buried her face in the crook of his neck and tried to suck at the skin there. He got up. "Time for her bottle. We'll talk about this later."

"Fine!" Dean raised both hands in defeat and quickly walked out of the living room. Less than a minute later, Sam heard the door opening and closing violently.

Wow. Very smooth, Sam, he thought, walking to the kitchen to warm up a bottle. What a great way to start the weekend.

::: :::

Surprisingly, Dean didn't stay out for long. He waited for Sam to be done with the bottle and the diaper change. When Sumiko was sated and clean, drowsing in her swing, he asked Sam very calmly to come and sit with him. Which only irritated Sam more. Since when had Dean become the reasonable one?

"I wasn't hunting," were Dean's first words.

"Then what was-"

"Sammy. Come on. Let me explain."

Dean brushed his fingers through Sam's hair, which was totally unfair because he knew damn well what that did to him. Dean's eyes were soft and clear, and Sam couldn't help but feel ashamed of his attitude.

"I'm listening," he said in a soft voice, lowering his eyes.

"I thought I would start to look for a place for us to live because December will be our last month here, and I'm like you: the idea of renting a cheap apartment doesn't exactly fill me with joy."

"Yeah, but we can't afford anything else. Besides, we can't exactly squat some place, hoping nobody will find out."

They've had this conversation a dozen of times already.

"Bobby knew we were looking and I already told him we'd like to stay in the area."

Well, iDean/i wanted to stay in the area. Even now that the pregnancy was over and Sumiko was following a normal development in the care of her new pediatrician, Dean didn't like the idea of moving too far away from Rania. Sam didn't mind. He had always liked New England anyway. What was surprising was that Dean had really decided to settle here. He hated the cold.

"So?"

"So he remembered that house in Freeport. Sent a hunter there last year – some guy named Garth - after he had read some stuff about it. It turned out to be a cursed object; nothing wrong with the house. The object was attached to the family owning it and this Garth guy destroyed it. But by then, the owner had moved out and had no intention of coming back. He wanted to rent it or sell it."

"You went to visit the house?"

"Yeah. Bobby thought, you know, most of those supposedly haunted houses are almost impossible to sell and that particular house has a bad reputation. He saidthought that maybe, if it was still unoccupied, I could give it a go and maybe negotiate a price."

"But you still thought it would be safer to double check, right?"

Sam felt himself blush, even though he hadn't done anything wrong, really. It was Dean who had acted all secretive and stuff. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I got all excited when I found that the house was still for sale and the price, man… And I thought it would be a nice surprise, which was stupid now that I think of it."

It was Dean's turn to blush, eyes lowered on his hands as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world.

"No, it wasn't stupid, Dean. S'just…"

"I know, I know. I did it all wrong. Anyway, went to the house the other night, double-checked everything and there's nothing there. It's… it's a nice house, you know and huh… It's quiet, on a small private beach and…"

"So? Do you want to make an offer on it or what? Where were you this morning?" Sam could barely hide the excitement in his voice.

Dean had that lopsided, goofy smile Sam liked so much as he fetched something from his jeans pocket. It was a set of keys.

"Well… I already signed a pre-sale contract. Surprise."

"What? You bought the house!" Sam practically screamed.

In her swing, Sumiko made a grunting noise, signifying that she didn't like being disturbed during her almost-but-not-quite morning nap.

"Okay, all the money we kept from what Bobby gave us went into it and I'm gonna have to find a job, but yeah."

"When did you do it?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "You know I can get out of here sometimes, right? Your daughter and I, we took a cab and went to the bank all by ourselves yesterday. Signed some papers. There is still a load of shit to settle and sign and we need to find a notary, but I'm sure you'll have the time of your life doing all that."

"Fuck. You really did want to surprise me." Sam cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, for assuming that maybe you-"

"I don't miss the hunt, Sam. Not for now anyway," Dean stated, looking Sam straight in the eyes.

"Okay," Sam murmured, and it was like a current of some sort passed between them, like this moment had a deep significance on the basis of those simple words. Dean was acknowledging his satisfaction with the life they were now leading.

"Sumiko and I went to get the keys this morning. Couldn't freaking wait for your lazy ass to get out of bed."

They decided to go to Freeport as soon as Sumiko's nap was over. Waiting for it was torture.

::: :::

Dean had been right to sign the pre-sale contract. The price they were paying was ridiculous. As the law obligated him, the owner had told Dean that his sister had killed her husband before committing suicide inside the house three years ago. Dean was proud to tell Sam how he had played the horrified, hesitant buyer to get the price lowered by an additional five thousand dollars. They giggled and made jokes like two teenagers on the way to Freeport, with Sumiko making saliva bubbles and yelling "da!" here and there to be sure to be part of the fun.

The house was beautiful.

The photos Sam had seen really didn't do it justice. It was located on a small private beach near Winslow Memorial Park, about eight meters above the water level, perched on a small rocky cliff. There was a big garden on the side, and although most of the flowers and plants were dead or burned from the cold, Sam could imagine what it would be like in the spring and summer.

The garden was surrounded by a white-picket fence that needed a new coat of paint, but looked solid. When Sumiko would beas old enough, she could play there by herself. Maybe they could build a swing set for her, or even a tree house nestled in the thick branches of the old oak tree that stood proudly in the middle of the garden.

Sam was so lost in thought that he didn't hear Dean calling him at first. His brother was already at the door, unlocking it. Sumiko was wriggling in his arms and blinking against the wind.

"Dean, it's awesome!" Sam yelled for his voice to cover the distance.

"I know, right? Come on! Sue's cold."

Sam ran across the yard and stepped on the old porch just as Dean was opening the door.

"So, let's go have a look at your new home, alright, monkey?" Dean smiled at Sumiko as she shook her head quickly, a thing she did whenever she became overly excited.

"There's a lot of furniture already here. Comes with the house. We'll decide what we want to keep and get rid of the rest," Dean told Sam as he stepped into a large, open kitchen.

He went on talking, but Sam didn't hear half of what he said, only registering the enthusiasm with a tad of nervousness in Dean's voice as he gave him a tour of the ground floor with Sumiko canted on his hip like she belonged there.

_Our home_, Sam thought. He'd never, ever considered any place as home, the Impala being the exception as he'd been literally raised on the road. Even the place where they were staying now had never felt like home because they had always known it would be temporary.

But this. It almost felt too good to be true. A solid looking house, not too far from town but quiet enough for him and Dean to feel comfortable. They'd never been totally at ease in big cities and suburbs anyway.

They had a view of the ocean. They had a small beach all to themselves.

"Dean?" Sam called, unable to hide the tremors in his voice.

Dean turned to look at him, one hand still on a wall on which he had knocked to show Sam that the house's framework was solid.

"Wha?"

"I love you."

"Shut up," Dean smiled, a deep blush crawling up his cheeks.

Which was almost as good as if he'd answered, "I love you" back.

::: :::

_Portland, December 15_

Dr. Lenner shared an office in downtown Portland with two other pediatricians. The flu season had started early that year and the waiting room was filled to its full capacity with worried parents and crying babies, kids of all ages who were coughing and sneezing and generally be miserable.

Dean had Sumiko on his lap, both of his arms around her, like he wanted to protect her from every bacteria and virus suspended in the air. Which was funny, thinking about it, since he himself was sick.

"This is ridiculous," he whispered in a hoarse voice, "Dragging a perfectly healthy baby here is like asking for her to get sick."

Sumiko didn't share her father's grumpiness. She was always excited to be surrounded by people, smiling and looking everywhere, babbling as loudly as she could – every time, she looked like she was having the time of her life. And this morning wasn't any different. She was looking at a woman two seats away from them and giving her the most charming smile – which, for some reason, reminded Sam of Dean smiling at a cute waitress.

"She's enjoying herself," Sam said, feeling ridiculously proud when the woman Sumiko was trying to seduce smiled back and said, "Awww."

Dean groaned and muffled a series of coughs in the crook of his arm. He'd been nursing a sore throat for a couple of days now and this morning, there had been a glassy look in his eyes and red blotches on his cheeks that told Sam he was running a low grade fever. Not that Dean would admit it. The last couple of weeks had been exhausting. They were in the middle of moving into their new house and, with Sam working full time, Dean had taken everything into his own hands, dragging Sumiko with him as he fixed minor stuff, moved some boxes they had already packed and even took care of the painting job. He would drive Sam to work and keep the car, visit flea markets and pawnshops to find cheap furniture they could use temporarily, as money was starting to become a serious issue. Evenings were relegated to job hunting. Dean would spend hours reading ads in the newspaper and on the internet in the Freeport area, but nothing seemed to fit him and it didn't help that he was only looking for a job that required weekend and evening hours. Sam had pointed out that they could find a babysitter for Sumiko. Dean had looked at him as if he'd grown a second head.

So, Dean had every reason to be exhausted and sick, and there wasn't much Sam could do but try to be as present and helpful as he could when he wasn't at work. Luckily, the worst of the move was behind them. They planned to finish the move next weekend. Dean had rented a small moving truck – it was incredible, the number of things they had accumulated over the last year - and after that, things should go smoother.

"Sumiko Winchester?" A nurse called.

"Thank god!" Dean groaned, standing quickly to follow her.

Sam walked behind him, arms full of their jackets, Sue's winter suit and the duffle they had converted into a baby bag.

They undressed Sue to her jumpsuit and the nurse weighed and measured her.

"Dr. Lenner will be with you soon," she told them, then exited the small exam room.

Sumiko sat on the exam table, held upright by Sam. She was dragging her small hands on the paper sheet covering the table and trying her best to tear it apart.

"Come on, baby, calm down," Sam tried to distract her with the small stuffed frog she liked so much, but she groaned and took another handful of paper, drooling in delight when it made a loud tearing noise.

"She hasn't gained a lot of weight," Dean said, sitting on a chair, arms wrapped around himself.

"She's following her growth curve," Sam reminded him.

"Still. Maybe we aren't trying hard enough with the cereal. She barely tastes it before she spits it out."

The visit was a simple follow-up since Sumiko would turn six months old at the beginning of January and Dr. Lenner would be on holidays at that time. Still, every single thing Sumiko did – or didn't do for that matter - had Dean over-analyzing it. He had a tendency to worry about the smallest, most insignificant things and Sam was often surprised by the evidence that Dean had become the nervous, worried parent and he had gotten the role of the calm and reasonable one.

After all, it was Dean who had been the big brother and had practically raised Sam. His pregnancy had definitely changed him in a permanent way.

"Hey, how are you guys doing," Dr. Lenner smiled her hideous smile as she walked in, closing the door behind her. As soon as Sumiko saw her, she started wiggling her feet and yelling her enthusiasm with wet gurgling noises, as if the pediatrician was her best friend. She definitely had impressive social skills.

"Well, this little one looks like she's doing fine," the doctor added, waving her stethoscope in front of Sumiko whose eyes crossed in fascination as she tried to grab it.

"She hasn't gained a lot of-"

Dean couldn't go on with the end of the sentence as he fought another harsh coughing spell that had him sweating bullets.

"I don't like the sound of that cough," Dr. Lenner pointed out sharply.

Dean blushed. "It's just a sore throat."

"I highly doubt that. Any other symptoms?"

"He's having trouble swallowing," Sam said, ignoring Dean's murderous glare.

"And?"

"I think he has a fever."

"Sam, for god'sake…"

Dr. Lenner ignored Dean's protest as she took a tongue depressor and a flashlight from the exam table drawer.

"Open wide for me, Mr. Winchester."

::: :::

"I fucking can't believe it!" Sam repeated as soon as he was settled back in the car, the pharmacy bag on his lap."

Dean rolled his eyes and started driving without saying anything.

"Is there anything else I should know?"

"Oh, come on, Sam! You were eight, you were freaking terrified to have a surgery. The only thing I could think of was to tell you that I'd had my tonsils removed as well. No big deal."

"Dr. Lenner said they were as big as golf balls."

"Dr. Lenner is exaggerating. What's the big deal anyway? I got the antibiotics."

Sam took the pill box out of the bag to show it to Dean. His eyes widened at the size of the pills.

"How am I supposed to take them if I can barely swallow my saliva?"

"Ah! There. You admit it hurts."

"Shut up."

Turned out that Dean had tonsillitis with nice pus blisters at the back of his throat. He had stopped fighting Dr. Lenner's exam only when she'd told him that he could infect his daughter.

"I'm taking the rest of the week off and you're going to get some rest."

Dean groaned, then coughed, then stopped talking. In the backseat, Sumiko was looking out the window, the white winter light reflecting in her eyes and making them look paler. They were turning green, just like Sam had guessed they would.

Her physical exam had shown she was perfectly healthy and still ahead of her age in her physical and mental development, particularly considering what the pediatrician had called her i_social intelligence/i_, which wasn't a surprise. "She's going to start talking soon, and you won't be able to shut her up," Dr. Lenner had pointed out. It had put a smile on Dean's face. Yeah, Sumiko was small for her age, but she was a fantastic baby, Sam completely agreed with that. Objectively, of course.

"So," Dean said after a couple minutes of silence. "Looks like we'll have another geek in the family. You must be so proud."

"What?"

"All this ahead-of-her-age stuff. Sue's taking after you."

"Come on, Dean. Is this the part where you say you got the good looks and I got the brains? Because Sumiko is definitely taking after you. Social intelligence, really, doesn't that ring any bells?"

Dean opened his mouth, then closed it, looking confused.

"Dean. You're the socially skilled one. And your intelligence is far from being restricted to that. Stop playing the moron."

"Well…"

Sumiko yelled an enthusiastic "DA!" then, and Dean smiled at her in the rear view mirror. There was a mix of uncertainty and pride in his eyes, which Sam found absolutely adorable.

::: :::

At nine o'clock that night, Sumiko was finally asleep for good. Sam turned on the baby monitor on her dresser and quickly checked the salt line on the window before tiptoeing out of the room.

He went directly to their bedroom. Dean was lying on top of the covers, wearing boxers and an old grey Henley. His hair was still wet from the shower and the redness on his cheeks told Sam his fever still hadn't broken. He had a paperback book opened on his thighs but his eyes were close, even if he wasn't sleeping.

Sam stripped down to his boxers and lay beside him, feeling a little ashamed for being so turned on by the sight of his brother's vulnerability. He couldn't help it. Dean showed this side of himself so rarely – it sometimes made Sam miss the strange months of his pregnancy, when he had been so lost and uncertain, so much more open to his own feelings and willing to share them with Sam. Those months during which he had so clearly, so strongly, needed Sam by his side every step of the way.

Dean cocked an eyebrow, feeling Sam's gaze on him.

"She asleep?" He rasped.

"Yeah. How're you feeling?"

Dean cleared his throat, then winced. He opened a lazy eye to look at Sam. "Not bad. The shower did some good."

"Did you take your-"

"Pills. Yeah, mom. Took the antibiotic and some Tylenol for the fever. Happy now?"

Sam didn't answer. He felt hot and itched to touch his brother. He propped himself up on one elbow and started rubbing small circles on Dean's upper thigh, feeling the soft hair rise up. Dean didn't react at first, just let out a sigh. When Sam's fingers started to climb up his thigh to play with the edge of his boxers, his cock began to swell under the worn out cotton.

Well, look at that, Sam thought.

"Sammy?" Dean asked. "Wanna fool around with your poor, sick brother?"

"Maybe…" Sam caressed the budge of Dean's dick, soft strokes without any real pressure. Dean hissed and his hips jerked.

"Okay."

"If you're not up to it, it's alright, though."

"Well, I've got the feeling that you kind of like it when I'm all miserable and shit."

Sam tried to find a wise answer to that, but ended up lowering his eyes, enjoying the view of Dean's fully erect shaft constricted by his underwear.

"You kinky bastard, you," Dean growled, a smile in his voice. "You wanna take care of me, Sam?" he added, pushing against Sam's hand.

"I wanna fuck you," Sam grabbed Dean's sac through the cotton, massaging it forcefully, just like Dean liked it.

"Yeah? It's been a while," there was a hesitation in Dean's voice, but at the same time, he pushed Sam's hand away and pulled down his boxers.

"Since you were pregnant with Sue."

Dean tensed for a second. He never liked when Sam mention he'd been pregnant, like they could both forget about it if they tried hard enough. Tonight, though, he let it go and turned on his stomach. "You better take your time prepping me."

Looking at Dean's pale muscular ass, Sam had every intention of doing just that. He took the lube from their nightstand drawer and poured a good quantity into his palm. Dean bent a leg to give him better access. He muffled a cough in the pillow and wiggled his ass comically. "Come on! Get to it before I fall asleep."

Sam took his time, starting by rubbing small circles with the tip of his finger around Dean's anus, then penetrating him slowly, finger-fucking him with one, then two fingers before starting to scissor them. To this point, Dean had started groaning softly in the pillow and tilting his ass to meet each of Sam's thrusts. When Sam went at it with three fingers, feeling the muscle loosen up and get slippery wet, Dean began to writhe on the comforter, toes curling as he rubbed his cock against the soft fabric.

"Ready now?"

Dean nodded. "Y-yeah."

"On your back," Sam cooed, taking his fingers out.

"Bossy," Dean moaned, but complied immediately. He was red and sweating, his eyes burning like green flames in the middle of his face. Sam knelt between his legs and stroked his flat stomach which quivered under his touch. Dean's skin was covered in goosebumps because of the fever. He was shivering lightly from it as well as from desire. When Sam appeared in no hurry to penetrate him, he wrapped his legs around his brother's hips, his thick cock jerking, precome bubbling at the slit.

"Come on, Sammy," he pleaded in a hoarse voice.

Sam held his dick firmly as he used his other hand to part Dean's ass cheeks, then pushed softly against his anus, the muscle giving way almost immediately as Dean pushed eagerly against him.

When Sam was fully seated, they both took a second to catch their breath. Dean swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing and his eyes closing.

"You okay?" Sam asked, running his fingers through Dean's short bangs.

"Yeah. M'ready Sam. Come on, move."

Sam did, setting a slow rhythm, his hand firmly gripping Dean's hips. His brother followed each thrust, rubbing Sam's flanks and chest with both hands, his head cocked to the side. It was lazy and soft love-making. There was an unmistakable intensity to it, in the synchronisation of their breath, their combined low moans. At one point, Dean started panting, then broke off in a long coughing spell which made them laugh. Sam grabbed a water bottle from the bedside table and offered it to him, feeling so good, ready to come out of his skin as Dean drank and his inner walls clenched around Sam's shaft.

They picked up a quicker rhythm then. Dean grabbed his cock and started jerking himself, and Sam watched because he liked the way Dean's firm hand moved up and down his dick, which was now an angry shade of pink, with the head almost purple.

"Come on, Dean, want to see you come."

"Almost… huh…almost there," Dean panted, jacking himself faster.

"Yeah, that's it… That's it Dean, let go."

And Dean did, muffling a cry in his throat, features tensing as his body locked itself before he ejaculated, his warm semen sliding on his hand and stomach. "Sammy," Dean whined, shaking almost uncontrollably, jaw clenched and eyes closed tight, clenching so good and hard around Sam's dick that he couldn't hold back anymore. He fucked Dean hard and fast for only another minute before his orgasm descended on him, fast and powerful, making his whole body hum with pleasure as he came deep inside Dean's ass.

His brother looked relaxed and sated. He smiled a little at him, licking his chapped lips.

"Oh yeah," he mumbled in a playful voice.

"Uh-huh," Sam agreed, kissing the tip of Dean's nose.

He carefully pulled out of Dean's hole and got up to get a warm washcloth. Dean didn't even acknowledged him leave the room, laying there on the wet spot with cooling sperm on his stomach, eyelids heavy and body shining with sweat.

It was one hell of a sight.

When Sam got back a few minutes later, Dean was almost asleep already. He groaned and shivered when his brother cleaned him, but made no attempt to move at all, pouting like a kid who's not ready to wake up.

It had been a long day, Sam thought, wrapping Dean in the comforter, smiling at each small sound his brother made.

Sam turned off the light and slid under the covers. As much as he wanted to press himself against Dean, he knew he could make the fever worse if he did, so he settled for extending his arm over's Dean's warm back.

"Sleep well, baby," he murmured.

"M'not y'r babyyy," Dean slurred.

But of course he was, Sam thought, smiling.

::: :::

It hurt.

That was Dean's first thought, even before he was fully awake.

It hurt like a bitch. Not his throat, even if the pain was well settled there between his swollen tonsils, thank you very much.

No. His stomach hurt. In a very, very bad way, in a way that reminded him of something, but he couldn't quite remember it through the cloud of sleepiness and the haze of the fever.

Groaning, Dean uncovered himself and sat on the side of the bed in the darkness. He could hear Sam snoring softly (despite the fact that Sam had assured him countless times that he had never snored of his life, looking all outraged and shit.) next to him. The baby monitor was on where it sat on the nightstand. Everything seemed normal.

Except for the pain. Lowering his eyes to his stomach, Dean didn't see anything. Not enough light. He stood up on unsteady legs, feeling dizzy and weak and irritated about it. He was naked and shivering as he made his way slowly to the bathroom, holding on to the wall.

He tried to swallow a couple of times but his throat wouldn't let him and his mouth filled with acrid saliva. The pain in his middle intensified, and he was disturbed to think it was a lot like the contractions he'd had when he'd reached seven centimeters, when Sumiko was born.

"What the hell," he mumbled to himself, regretting it immediately when his sore throat reminded him that it was on fire.

He flipped on the bathroom light and blinked against it, feeling tears of irritation fill his eyes. He had to hold himself up on the counter with both hands to keep from falling.

His skin was pale and damp, striped with long purplish-blue patches, which always happened when he spiked a fever.

Then he saw. Below his navel.

_Shit._

The skin there was elevated with red swollen symbols. Symbols that he remembered all too well.

One in the shape of an oval, then a stylized "Y", then those letters tied together belonging to some runic alphabet.

Fuck.

Dean hated witches.

A slow process of understanding was making its way into Dean's mind and his tonsillitis was suddenly the least of his worries. He yelled.

"SAM!"

::: :::

To be continued in Hunter's Lullaby' sequel, _The Huntress_


End file.
